


I was getting better

by genericfanatic



Series: Worry [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Depression, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 20:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14065179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genericfanatic/pseuds/genericfanatic
Summary: Just a normal dip.





	I was getting better

**Author's Note:**

> don't know if this is going to make sense if you haven't read previous parts.

I was getting better.

The thought was going over and over again in his mind.

Coran had given him these techniques to talk things out. He spent time, once a week, thinking things through as best as he could, and he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing but, things were getting better. He hadn’t had a meltdown in weeks, not really. 

He’d had down thoughts, but he’d been fighting them. Not to mention, working as a paladin kept him busy. There were thoughts, but, he’d kept them down. Tossed them away like old garbage. It took time. It took effort. And even then he wasn’t…progressing. But he kept his head above water. 

But here he was on day 2…3? He wasn’t sure of meltdown. He should be writing this down, it…it would help. Writing out the thoughts. Making them real. He should talk to someone. But he didn’t know what about or where to fucking start. 

Recovery isn’t linear, he told himself. There would be ups, and downs, and that was just the way it was going to be. It was the way it was always going to be. 

But he was better. Beforehand. 

He walked back and forth in his room, scratching the back of his head over and over. 

It was just a dip. Just a little dip. All he had to do was take care of himself, bare minimum take care of himself for a few days, and he’d be fine again. Food. Sleep. Hygiene. If he could, try and get work done. 

But still the thoughts circled his head like vultures over a rotting carcass. Talking about what he should do. What he should be. Comparing himself to others, those who could…who could so easily do things, who could be…what he wanted. 

That was illogical too. People only saw HIM on his good days most of the time, so of course it would seem like everyone was on their game to him. He didn’t see them behind the scenes. Didn’t see them when they were low. It was useless to compare himself to them. 

And then there were the fun little games, the ones telling him how he was lying to people to make him seem more important. To make him seem more interesting. Lying lying lying about his sexuality, he liked girls why did he try and pretend to be bi? Lying about his mental illness, if it was so easily fixed it wasn’t real. Lying about how good he was as a paladin, he did the bare minimum, and even then it wasn’t about doing the right thing, not like it was for Hunk, not for saving people close to him like Pidge, not like, not like, not like anyone. 

His brain’s favorite game was who would miss me first? Not if he killed himself, no, just…just if he dropped dead right then, no explanation. First they’d notice he was late for breakfast. Then he wouldn’t be in training, and that’s when they’d probably get worried. Given his history, Hunk most likely would pound down the door. Then there would be crying mourning, and trying to get a new red paladin as soon as they could. That would be easy enough, just get Keith to come back from the Marmorites, and done. Lance was pretty sure part of the reason Keith had left anyway was pity for Lance. Lance should never have told him those things about being a spare paladin. 

He knew the thing to do now. The responsible thing, the thing he SHOULD do. He needed to talk to Hunk. Even if he didn’t know what to say he should have…should have just…

But then Hunk would know…would know that he’d dipped again. Would feel sad and try not to feel disappointed but fail just a little, that the better hadn’t stuck. 

He stared down his communicator. It didn’t have to be Hunk, sweet, forever understanding Hunk. He could call any of them, they were his friends. They’d come. Pidge would come over with a gaming set, or Allura with nail paint. Shiro or Keith would be happy to train with him. Hell, Coran could ramble about anything for however long, distract him perfectly. 

He didn’t. He didn’t do any of the helpful healthy things he was taught to do. He just stared…and thought. Stared. And thought.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
